


Unforgettable

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Halloween Costumes, Hockey Player Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Meet-Cute, Smut, frat party shenanigans, the laundromat meet-cute i've wanted to write for so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Yuuri usually does his laundry very late at night, but on the night before Halloween, he has unexpected company.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, background phichit chulanont/christophe giacometti
Comments: 20
Kudos: 230





	Unforgettable

**Author's Note:**

> Alpha’d by [Riki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riki), beta’d by Sora [(@rainysorarts)](https://twitter.com/rainysorarts)!

The music in Yuuri’s headphones was bordering on unsafe-for-ears levels that chilly night. The laundromat was completely empty, as he had expected of a Thursday night in October— he was thankful for it, that meant he could simply let himself exist without holding himself in. 

So was often the case, Yuuri kept to himself more often than not. He ventured out into the world on his own very rarely, only ever at his roommate’s behest or the night he had been dragged out by his… well, he hesitated to call them  _ friends  _ from Chemistry. 

But the Halloween Bash was something that was not to be missed, no matter how much Yuuri complained. Every fraternity and sorority both on campus and off opened their doors for party hoppers, converted their homes into haunted houses, took frightened freshmen on fright night tours through the woods surrounding campus. 

Yuuri wasn’t one for the haunts— if he had to participate, he much preferred sitting on a worn-down couch, spectating and sipping heavily spiked punch. He hadn’t even decided on a last-minute costume yet, despite Phichit’s cajoling. 

The music in his ears drowned out the rumbling of the machines as his laundry tumbled inside them, until a gentle touch nearly startled him out of his own skin. 

“Hi! Sorry, hate to bother you,” the person’s muffled voice filtered in under Yuuri’s embarrassingly loud J-rock. He pulled his headphones off and turned to face him,  _ the _ Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri had watched him on the ice before, even had a class with him at one point, but rising star, collegiate hockey player, and something of an idol infatuation of Yuuri’s, Viktor Nikiforov was there, in the laundromat with him, at two in the morning. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri stuttered as he attempted to pull himself together. He looked like a mess, an old, worn t-shirt and aging sweatpants had been the right choice to do his laundry in peace, not to be seen by, much less to interact with  _ Viktor Nikiforov. _ “H-hi, you’re—”

Viktor laughed, and Yuuri felt faint. “Hi, nice to see you again. Sorry to interrupt the silent disco, but can I borrow some detergent from you?” 

Yuuri floundered for a moment, still in disbelief of his late night company. “I, uh, yes, of course,” he stammered, reaching for the half-empty box of laundry soap in his basket. “Here, take as much as you need.”

Viktor smiled, and  _ god, _ Yuuri was gone. His smile was so bright it stunned him, like a camera’s flash in the dark. “Thank you, Yuuri.” Viktor’s voice was clear as crystal, the sound of his own name in Viktor’s mouth sounded foreign, and Yuuri’s frazzled brain couldn’t parse it.

“I, uh,” Yuuri attempted, only now seeing what Viktor was wearing. His too-large hockey sweater and well-fit grey sweatpants. Yuuri knew he was staring, but for his life he couldn’t look higher than his waist. “You know me? You remember me?”

“Of course I do. You’re the cute one from Algebra.” Viktor chuckled and freed Yuuri of his own staring as he chose the washing machine beside Yuuri’s, dumping a pile of red and white warmups and sweaters into the open top. “Do you always do your laundry in the dead of night?”

Yuuri’s mouth went dry as he realized that a view of Viktor’s  _ other  _ side did nothing to relieve him of the staring. His butt looked criminally nice in those sweatpants. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked again, his voice colored with a throaty laugh that made Yuuri shiver. 

“Yes, I usually do,” Yuuri finally answered, tearing his eyes away from Viktor’s impossibly shapely rear end. “It’s quiet at night. No people.”

“Aw, not a people person then?” Viktor asked, and Yuuri almost missed the tone of teasing in his voice. “That’s a shame, I’m sure the world would love knowing you better.”

Yuuri flushed down to his toes and tried not to feel as wholly embarrassed as he did. The world knew him plenty, if Phichit’s tales of drunk Yuuri’s shenanigans were to be trusted. Yuuri had the great misfortune of being a blackout drunk, compounded by the misfortune of being a horny drunk. 

“I don’t know about that.” Yuuri settled on his response, his eyes flicking to Viktor in perfect time to catch him dropping a mesh delicates bag into a second machine with a pile of t-shirts and underwear. Yuuri bit his lip to keep in the flustered squeak threatening to spill out; how else was he supposed to react to seeing a bundle of  _ bright red lingerie _ in with the star forward’s laundry?

Viktor smiled softly, shrugging. “Maybe just me, then.”

“You’re good at that. Stop it.” Yuuri laughed, dropping his forehead to the closed machine in front of him. 

“Good at what?” Viktor asked. His lips were cocked upward at the corner, the look so clearly smug it made Yuuri wish the earth would open up below him and swallow him whole. 

“Embarrassing me.” Viktor winked, tossing his long ponytail over his shoulder and filling his machines with quarters. “Doesn’t it get in the way? When you play?”

As the machines whirred to life, Viktor shrugged. “No, not really. I braid it, and put it all in my helmet.” Yuuri remembered the first time he had seen Viktor’s hair, long and silky and spilling out as he pulled his helmet off. He had known he was attracted to men before that night, but that had cemented it more than anything. 

“Oh.” was all Yuuri could manage in the moment, still very much remembering that he had drank Phichit under the table after the game that night. 

(He had later learned just how rhapsodic he had been about Viktor’s hair and his smile.)

“Sometimes I think about cutting it.” Viktor said, sitting in the plastic chair beside Yuuri, the empty basket between them. “Coach wants me to, but—”

“No! Don’t,” Yuuri interrupted, much to his own horror. “Don’t cut it, it’s… very pretty.” 

Viktor’s eyes lit up in a way Yuuri hadn’t noticed before; with the benefit of closeness he could see the gleam in his eyes. It couldn’t possibly be a trick of the fluorescent lights, not with the way his lips parted in a wide smile simultaneously. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Viktor asked, and when Yuuri would have usually been put off by such a blatant leading question, he answered honestly.

“I do, I  _ was _ talking about your hair, but yes.” Yuuri felt himself growing bolder, slowly. Whatever confidence an empty laundromat gave him was surely magic. “I think you’re very pretty.”

Pretty was hardly the word Yuuri would have used to describe him, in all honesty. Viktor looked utterly ethereal in the yellowing fluorescents, defying every law of nature and optics in the process. He looked even more angelic than under the harsh light at the rink, but god, what Yuuri wouldn’t give to see Viktor’s face up close, a single drop of sweat trailing down his temple…

Viktor asked him something that he didn’t catch, too focused on the sharp line of Viktor’s jaw, the column of his throat bobbing as he drank from his water bottle.

“Sorry, what?” Yuuri asked, attempting to snap himself out of his stupor. Viktor laughed, bright like a silver bell. 

“I asked you to come to the party tomorrow night.” Viktor repeated, propping himself up over the mostly-full laundry basket between them, his chin in his hand. “We’re trying to make Delta Phi Alpha’s haunt look like child’s play this year.”

Yuuri snorted. “You sound like my roommate. He’s been begging me to go out with him for weeks.” 

“Your roommate is wise, I would like to thank him for his service.” Viktor laughed, licking his lips in an unfairly attractive way. “Will you come? Please?” He leaned further over the basket, now close enough for Yuuri to reach out and touch. “I want to see you again.”

Yuuri hesitated, wanting more than anything to say yes. He mirrored Viktor and leaned across the basket, mimicking his posture in a way he hoped looked natural.    
  
“I don’t have a costume,” he began, watching Viktor’s brows crease in the middle. From this close, Yuuri could see the faint smattering of pale freckles sprinkled across Viktor’s cheekbones, the ring of a darker shade of blue around his irises. The blue looked so cold on the ice, but here, they appeared warm like tropical water.

How easy would it be to touch him now? How little effort would it take to reach across the minute space between them and feel the warmth of Viktor’s skin under his hand? His hand twitched, his body itself wanting to touch. He clamped down on the urge, just as Viktor reached across to dance his fingertips along the hem of his sleeve.

Yuuri pulled in a sharp breath, trying not to breathe too fast.

“That’s okay,” Viktor whispered, his voice nearly drowned out by the rumbling laundry machines. “Anything you wear would be perfectly fine.”

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind wandering with the trail Viktor’s fingers were blazing, imagining that touch beneath his shirt, fire tracing along the tendons in his throat, his inner thighs.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri gasped, and the cacophonous buzz of a dryer interrupted. Yuuri swore and scrambled out of reach, pulling his clean bedsheets from the drum. He was grateful for a moment of privacy to adjust the tent that had begun to grow in his sweatpants as he faced away from Viktor. 

Viktor muttered something that Yuuri didn’t quite catch, but he didn’t ask on it further. 

“That’s an idea,” Viktor said softly, eyeing the bundle of sheets in Yuuri’s arms when he turned around. “Come here, let’s make you a costume.”

“Wait, Viktor,” Yuuri stammered, still very aware of the hardness in his pants as Viktor pulled his white flat sheet from his arms. “You don’t, I can—”

“Shush, let me work?” Viktor teased, pressing a single finger to Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri quieted, far too focused on the pressure, the warmth of Viktor’s touch against his mouth. He pursed his lips in a pout and watched Viktor’s pupils flare dark and wide for a moment. Those silvery eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked before tossing his hair over his shoulder again. 

“What kind of costume-?” Yuuri asked, trying not to shudder as Viktor wrapped the sheet around him. “You’re not putting me in a toga, are you?” Yuuri rolled his eyes at the thought of the stereotypical toga party, fraternity boys wrapping sheets around themselves in every American movie about college he had seen.

Viktor laughed softly, the tone much lower, deeper now. “It  _ will  _ be a toga, but not  _ that _ kind of toga, I promise.” Viktor worked carefully, the humming sounds he made under his breath had Yuuri sweating. 

“There, done.” The work was messy, but Yuuri understood what Viktor had intended. 

“Very clever,” Yuuri laughed, “I’ll have to find a laurel wreath.” Yuuri felt heavy with the way Viktor was looking at him, his eyes hungry and cheeks flushed. “And I’ll leave the t-shirt off.”

“Yes, good, that’s… yes.” 

Yuuri never thought he would live to see the day that such a gorgeous being would be embarrassed the way Viktor was— but the flush on his cheeks was undeniable. Yuuri stepped forward, feeling the cool air of the room rush through the roughly-made skirt, seeing his leg slip through a slit that led all the way up to his waist.

“Show me how to take it off?” Yuuri asked, cocking his hip outward and imagining the entirety of his thigh sliding through the gap. He’d have to wear a thong.

Viktor nodded so fast his fringe shook loose from his ponytail, untying the knot at Yuuri’s shoulder and his waist. The toga fell to the floor around him and Viktor bent to pick it up, looking up at Yuuri through his bangs. The sight made Yuuri light headed. 

“That’s my last load… I have Accounting at eight AM tomorrow.” Yuuri said, mournful. 

“Tomorrow night?” Viktor asked, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. 

“I’ll be there.”

Phichit squealed when Yuuri relayed the story to him on the walk to class. “He put you in a toga?!” he asked in disbelief. “Never thought I’d see the day. My baby Yuuri is so grown up!”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic, it’s not like he saw me naked.”

“But you wish he had, right?” Phichit teased, elbowing him in the ribs. Yuuri squeaked and kept walking, dodging the question’s obvious answer. Class was mind-numbing as always, frustrating and tiresome. He and Phichit took their separate classes on Friday, his roommate’s elective theater class sounded much more appealing than Yuuri’s mandatory Accounting 304, despite his fear of public speaking.

Yuuri’s phone pinged midway through class, and he eagerly pulled it from his pocket under the table. 

**_Phichit_ ** _ (sent 09:35) come to the theater dept after class _

Yuuri knew better than to argue with him, having lost to Phichit’s rapid chatter far too many times to justify. When he arrived, nearly brain-dead after class, Phichit pulled him into the Costuming rooms, where a handful of his friends had gathered tables full of accessories and props to borrow for the Bash. 

“Pick whatever you want, Adonis, we’ll make sure Golden Boy never looks away.” Phichit winked, tossing him a gold-painted laurel wreath crown.

Yuuri tried not to squirm as cold air rustled his skirt later that night, the October wind brushing goosebumps onto his skin. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Well you  _ look  _ hot, so no complaining.” Phichit fired back, dressed head to toe in black latex that had been  _ quite _ an ordeal to get him into. He was wearing high-waisted black shorts and garters, knee-high heeled boots and the skimpiest harness Yuuri had ever seen; a pair of horns poked out of his dark hair and the leather wings and tail denoted his devil costume, but Yuuri saw through the attempt for what it was. 

“You’re meeting Chris tonight, aren’t you?” Yuuri teased as they walked along the sidewalk in front of house after house meticulously decorated for the Bash.

Phichit winked and laughed. “You know me so well!” His phone lit up in his hand, revealing a photo of Phichit’s sometime-boyfriend, sometime-fuckbuddy Christophe Giacometti wearing a similarly skimpy angel outfit. “He’s meeting us at the Sigma Chi house!”

Yuuri’s stomach twisted as he imagined what Viktor’s reaction would be, how focused, how singular his attention had been in their chance meeting at the laundromat last night. 

“Nervous?” Phichit asked, his joking demeanor fading in an instant. 

“No, I’m okay,” Yuuri assured him, thankful to whatever was watching over him had given him a roommate as understanding as Phichit. “Just excited.”

“Good, you’re going to knock him dead.”

Yuuri had never been less sure of anything in his life, but the way Viktor’s housemate stared when he answered the door was enough of an assurance. “Welcome,” he said, dark blue eyes quite fixated on Yuuri’s bare chest. 

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice called from deeper in the house, and the speed with which the man at the door shifted to disappointment was staggering. “Yuuri!” They stepped into the house and Phichit immediately found himself in Chris’s arms, easily swaying with the beat thudding in the living room-turned-dancefloor. 

Viktor was dressed in a similar way to Phichit, but only similarly with the black leather motif; his chest was bare under a floor-length cape turned up around his cheeks, black leather pants clung to his thighs like they were painted on. A pair of party store fangs sat sharp and dangerous in his mouth when he smiled that wide, heart-shaped smile Yuuri had seen the night before. 

“You came!” Viktor cheered, looking every bit the opposite of a frightening vampire. Yuuri flushed, the attention made him feel light as air. “You look amazing, Yuuri.”

Yuuri didn’t think it was possible to blush  _ harder _ than he had before, but he did. “Thank you, Phichit helped me with the makeup.” Yuuri explained as Viktor examined the sharp cateye and messy kohl on his lid, gold dust on his cheekbones and in his cupid’s bow. 

“He did  _ fantastic, _ ” Viktor breathed, passing a glass of something sweet into Yuuri’s hand. He drank it eagerly, warmed down to the bones by whatever Viktor had made for him. They danced, slowly inching closer to each other bit by bit.

Yuuri barely noticed the shift until Viktor’s hand slipped into the gap in his skirt, his hand dancing over the bare skin of his thigh. Yuuri shivered and closed the remaining space between them, pressing his half-bare chest to Viktor’s. It was barely audible over the music, but the small gasp that fell from Viktor’s mouth had Yuuri craving more. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed hoarsely, his cheeks flushed rose petal red, “Can I kiss you? Please?”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat and a half and he nodded, tipping his chin upward and gasping into Viktor’s mouth as their lips met in a messy crash. Viktor was greedy, holding tight to Yuuri’s waist as they kissed, surely smearing the makeup Phichit had applied to his lips. Yuuri was far beyond caring by then, most of his concern centered on how to contain an erection in the tiny thong he was wearing.

Viktor, it seemed, had no such concerns, his hardening length pressed against Yuuri’s hip through his pants and the size of it had Yuuri’s mouth watering. 

The music faded from their ears almost entirely, caught up in the small sounds of rushed, wet breaths and Viktor’s hitched gasps when Yuuri rolled his hips against his. 

“I want you,” Viktor whispered between kisses, his tightening grip on Yuuri confirmed it. “Anything, I’ll do anything.”

Yuuri was too far gone to think about it too much, but he would, the following morning—  _ Viktor Nikiforov _ wanted him. 

“Take me away, then, Viktor.” Yuuri answered, kissing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Viktor’s throat. The sound Viktor made rang in Yuuri’s ears like a bell, echoing in his memory never to be forgotten. He whined and pulled away, grabbing Yuuri by the wrist and pulling him down the hall and away from the noise. The music slowly became muted, thudding through the walls as if they were underwater. It was all far away, distant, compared to the heat of Viktor’s mouth when his bedroom door was closed. 

Yuuri threaded his hands through Viktor’s long hair, holding him right where he was as they kissed; here, in private, Yuuri didn’t hold back, instead rolling his hips without reservation. His skirt was tenting embarrassingly quickly, but how could his body not react this way? Especially when Viktor fell to his knees?

“Can I? I want to suck you.” Viktor asked, breathless, his throat and chest flushed now too. 

Yuuri moaned and nodded, something about the question itself, the request to continue had him burning. His skirt parted easily and Viktor licked his lips at the sight of Yuuri’s cock, swelling and overfilling his underwear. The reddened head of him was wet and shining where it had begun to peek out from under his thong. Yuuri would have been embarrassed if he had been allowed even a moment longer to look at himself, but Viktor pulled him free and opened his mouth eagerly.

“Wait, wait, the teeth,” Yuuri protested, and Viktor snorted a laugh; he pulled the false fangs free with a sheepish smile and swallowed Yuuri whole. 

Viktor looked like an angel between his legs, his silver head bobbing as he clung to Yuuri’s spread thighs. His mouth and tongue were wet velvet, hot and perfect and so all-encompassing it had him gasping. 

“You’re so good at this,” Yuuri managed, already feeling weak in the knees. “Viktor, please, I’m already-” and he  _ was _ , his orgasm drew nearer with every pass of that perfect tongue over his head, sensitive and weeping precome. 

Viktor hummed and Yuuri was gone, biting his lower lip against the urge to scream Viktor’s name. His legs shook as he came, his toes curled and goosebumps rolled over his body like a tidal wave. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his dick as Viktor lapped at the last of it, looking dazed and desperate.

“Wow,” Yuuri breathed and Viktor blinked up at him with teary eyes, his lips swollen and red. “That was. Wow.”

Viktor laughed, his voice rough and used in a way that had Yuuri shivering. 

“You now?” Yuuri asked, eyeing the now obscene bulge in Viktor’s pants. 

“Only if you want to.” Viktor said softly, his eyes wide and moony. “I’d… really like to fuck you, Yuuri.” The reaction was instant, Yuuri helped Viktor up and pulled him into bed, fumbling with his button and fly. Viktor was panting now, huffing into Yuuri’s throat as he reached into the bedside table for a condom and lube. 

“Open me. Two at once.” Yuuri instructed after he had worked Viktor’s pants down over his ass. He twisted in Viktor’s grasp and pressed his chest into the bed, spreading himself open for Viktor to see, to touch. Viktor pressed cool, slick fingers to Yuuri’s opening and pushed in, punching the breath out of Yuuri’s chest. “More, I can take it.” 

Viktor swore under his breath and added a third, convincing Yuuri’s body to allow him in. “God, Yuuri, you’re incredible,” Viktor breathed, his voice thick with awe. 

“Put it in, Viktor.” Yuuri moaned after a moment, his spine tingling again. “Fuck me.”

The lewd sounds of wet skin made Yuuri shiver and Viktor’s fingers were quickly replaced with the blunt heat of Viktor’s cock. Viktor shuddered, a wet moan ripped free as he pushed in deeper; Yuuri wondered if he would ever bottom out, the pressure, the heat of him so overwhelming he swore he could feel Viktor under his ribs.

“S-so good, you feel so good,” Viktor babbled, draping himself over Yuuri’s frame. They were both running hot, sweat beading in Yuuri’s lower back and at Viktor’s hairline. “I, I want, s-so much-”

“Then  _ take _ , Viktor.” Yuuri breathed, pushing his hips back as far as he could, feeling the kiss of Viktor’s pelvis against his ass. “You can take all of me.”

Something wild broke free in Viktor then and he withdrew only to slam home again, his cock brushing over Yuuri’s prostate with devastating accuracy. Yuuri cried out, muffling the sound with Viktor’s pillow. It smelled like him, like his shampoo, like sweat, like  _ Viktor _ , and Yuuri was dizzy with it. Every stroke pushed a moan out of Yuuri’s mouth and Viktor’s panting, desperate breaths behind him felt like fire in his veins. 

“Faster, Viktor, more,” Yuuri begged, fists tightening in the bedsheet. “More, make me come again.”

Viktor’s sounds grew higher pitched as they continued, his thrusts coming faster and more desperate, the sound of skin against skin felt like thunder in Yuuri’s ears. 

“Please, please please,” Viktor gasped against Yuuri’s throat, “I’m close, I want to- please,” 

Yuuri’s heart nearly burst. “Do it. Come. Fill me up, Viktor.” he moaned, shuddering through a second orgasm as Viktor shouted his. He slowed to a stop, his hips twitching as the aftershocks rolled through.

Viktor pushed himself up on shaky arms, withdrew and tossed the used condom before collapsing into a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs. His cheeks were so warm they felt feverish when Yuuri touched him. 

“You’re amazing, Yuuri.” Viktor mumbled into Yuuri’s hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. Yuuri fought back an incredulous laugh. “I’m so lucky. I thought I had missed my chance.”

Yuuri made a double take, the emotional whiplash caught him by the throat. “What?”

“I spent that entire semester we had Algebra trying to ask you out.” Viktor answered simply, and Yuuri stared, uncomprehending for a moment. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you clammed up and I thought you weren’t interested.”

Yuuri sputtered a laugh. “I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year, how was I supposed to react to you talking to me?” Yuuri laughed, the retroactive embarrassment catching up to him fast. “And asking for batteries for your calculator didn’t seem like flirting.”

“And asking for laundry detergent is?” Viktor replied with a smirk, and Yuuri knew he’d been caught. “I’ve been hoping I could meet you again for two years.”

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat and he buried his face in Viktor’s shoulder. “You can’t just  _ say _ things like that.” he whined, listening to Viktor’s laugh rumbling in his throat. 

“Why not?” Viktor asked, pressing a kiss to the cup of Yuuri’s shoulder. “It’s true.”

“I thought I was no one.” Yuuri admitted, burrowing into Viktor’s warmth as Viktor wrapped his arms around him. “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

Viktor hummed quietly, and Yuuri was hit by it all at once— how human Viktor was, how easily he had let Yuuri take control, how natural it had felt to hold the reins. The confidence he never would have imagined for himself settled over him easy as breathing, just like Viktor had so eagerly melted with his touch. His idol, his longtime crush… was human. A human who liked being held.

“You’re Yuuri. Yuuri isn’t no one.” Viktor said simply. “You’re unforgettable.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed the filth. I love college aus of these boys, i can't help it. also this was much more topical in october but whatever skjhfgskjdfg (click [here](https://twitter.com/IAtheAuthor/status/1284139455071293440?s=20) to learn how to read these when i post them)
> 
> <3 ia  
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor) | [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com)


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